Chapel
by Fixomnia Scribble
Summary: What would make Scully hold onto her faith despite everything she has seen? Something *else* she saw, a long long time ago.


**Summary:** What would make Scully hold onto her faith despite everything she has seen? Something *else* she has seen.

 **Disclaimer:** Oh, gods above and below, are we still doing these? All right. I disclaim, disavow and deny any ownership of these characters, and do not intend any infringement or material gain from the publication of this thing. This is a work of homage to the creators and actors involved in that sweeping modern epic known as "The X-Files".

 **Notes:** This was first published in February 2002, under an old old pseudo. I thought I'd join this month's X-fic party and re-release, as many old X-Philes seem to be leaping out the woodwork! (Hello, hello, everyone!) So, with a few minor edits, here is 'Chapel' again, polished and restored to its former...something.

******************************************************  
Chapel  
******************************************************

September 1976  
Boston, Massachusetts  
St. Ignatius' Catholic School

3:15 pm

Dana Kate was cold, hungry and furious. Not only had twenty-four new classmates giggled at her West Coast accent and stubby red pigtails ( _all_ the girls here had long, loose hair except the Lower School babies), but Sister Mark had made a speech about making her feel welcome because Navy families had to travel all the time. Blushing only made her self-conscious, and that made her even more stiff and formal. When she had said "Thank you, Sister" afterwards, the whole class cracked up as if they couldn't believe it. What had she done wrong? She was just being polite.

Now she shifted on the small red cushion, aching from the chill in the small school Chapel and the long hour of kneeling. Her stick-thin arms, almost transparently white against her short-sleeved blue Gym blouse, were folded on the back of the wooden pew in front of her, and she let her forehead drop against them. A school-issue blue plastic rosary was on the floor beside her, where she'd all but flung it down once her Our Fathers were done.

For one horrifying instant she honestly wished she had broken it — and found herself saying another one just in case that was her last thought before she died.

She pushed her head into her arms, hard, needing to cry but knowing she would not.

Every few years there was a new school, new teachers and classmates, an endless series of farewells and introductions from Base to Base. Schools ranged from welcoming and inspiring to oppressive and stupefyingly pious. This one might have been fun except that the students were mostly fifth and sixth-generation St. Ignatians, whose families held the original deeds to the surrounding lands. Proud and intelligent but appallingly inexperienced, Dana's fellow-students were almost exclusively concerned with the shifting tide of popularity among them.

Dana Kate knew within minutes that she would be ostracized. Usually Missy, Billy, Charlie and she were united in their opinion on schools, but this time Missy and Billy had made friends right away. Missy had already joined the school Choir, and Billy had been asked to try out for the football team. She had learned this much in their lunchtime palaver, all four Scullys eating and talking together at one end of a long folding table in the noisy cafeteria. And it was only the first day of term.

They were used to the stares and masked whispers, the new kids easily identified by their matching red heads and straight backs. They might squabble and scrap at home like caged cats, but outside the house they were a unit. Captain Scully had always impressed upon them the importance of mutual support and it was a lesson well kept. Even in schools where younger siblings were systematically ignored by their elders, Missy had always come to sit with her at lunch, and Billy kept an eye on shy Charlie.

Until today.

Her heart sank as she watched Missy's eyes flicker longingly to a group of pretty, chattering girls from her grade who were obviously waiting to talk with her. Missy had already re-done her hair to match theirs. Bill had traded unsmiling, businesslike nods with a couple of young men in the top form who seemed to sympathize with him, taking care of his little brother and sisters. A pack of little Charlie's classmates had rushed up to invite him out to play and he had promised to join them. Dana Kate knew with a dread certainty that tomorrow, she would eat alone in the huge school cafeteria for the first time. She had wrapped up her sandwich, mostly uneaten, and left the table with the others.

The worst had come right after lunch, in Gym outside on the maple-frocked school field. Already humiliated by her own conspicuousness, she was the only one who didn't yet wear a bra, the fastest on the field, and by far the most skilled with a hockey stick. Usually she loved hockey, and had helped her previous school bring home the regional trophy. But today, the supercilious giggles from her classmates faded and became looks of genuine dislike.

After a particularly spirited rally, Sister Mark blew her whistle, and Dana Kate heard the end of a whispered exchange:

"I swear, she's like a little boy in girls' clothes!"

"I know, except for that hair. Honestly!"

That did it. In a heartbeat, she threw down her stick and lunged, had the first speaker's arm twisted up behind her back and was about to kick her knees out from under her when Sister Mark loomed overhead in the stunned silence and blew her whistle again.

"Scully, let go of Hallstead at once and report to Mother Francis! On your first day, too!"

And now here she was in the draughty Chapel, an hour later, still in her Gym kit of blouse and short gray pleated hockey skirt, goosepimpled and unrepentant after fifty Our Fathers. Oh, she knew she shouldn't have tried to drop Lucy Hallstead, but she knew better than to hurt her—she only wanted to stop her. Lucy had made the first strike, after all, and that meant Dana Kate was entitled to defend herself.

Anyway, she already knew she made a better boy than girl. A girl had to look after herself on the Base, even the outwardly soft and gentle Missy. Missy made people want to protect her, which endeared her to the naturally chivalrous and family-proud Bill — Dana Kate looked after herself, which did not.

But there were some things beyond her skill. Normal girls of her own age topped the list. How she was going to face her classmates for the last period, she didn't know. Maybe she could skip and claim she'd gotten lost, or maybe she could pretend to fall asleep in the Chapel.

At that, she realized her anger was fading into exhaustion. She'd been keyed up all day, and had barely touched her lunch, let alone breakfast. She sat back on the pew behind her and cornered herself into the endpiece, tucking her sneakered feet under her for warmth. Her mind wandered over the Lord's Prayer, of which she was quite sick by now, and came to rest instead on the Ave Maria.

 _Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb...Holy Mary, pray for us sinners..._

 _Holy Mary, pray for us..._

 _Holy Mary, pray for me..._

She caught herself and froze. Was that a sin to ask? She glanced up at the large wooden cross which hung from two airy-thin chains over the mahogany altar and genuflected in an automatic reflex.

Her eyes traveled beyond the cross and altar to the huge round stained-glass window behind. The Blessed Virgin Mary, in jewel-like blue and red and yellow segments, held the Infant Jesus on her lap. Mary looked down serenely at the Infant. The Infant, draped modestly in a white cloth with a ruby-studded crown upon it, looked straight out at Dana Kate.

Could Mary really hear her? She didn't quite know what to make of Mary. She knew that Mary had lived on the earth once and had given birth to the baby Jesus without being married, at least when she got pregnant with him, which was a miracle. This sounded more like what her mother and the other church ladies called "A pity." Intercession was something else entirely. She didn't know where to begin with that, except that it was supposed to happen if you asked sincerely and were in a state of grace with the Church.

The prayer rose unbidden from somewhere below her ribs, like a sob or a burst of laughter, silent:

 _Oh, Mary, pray for me._

Dana Kate fixed her gaze on the dark blue of Mary's eyes and waited, watching. A long minute passed. Nothing happened. Her eyes began to water, and Mary's blue eye seemed to become brilliant, as though picked out by candlelight behind. As she stared, barely breathing, the blue slid lower and a piece broke away, moving down Mary's white cheek in a jagged, choppy motion as the mosaic rearranged itself. It hovered a moment, and then fell slowly onto the head of the baby Jesus in her lap.

Mary's face turned slowly towards her —

and it wasn't terrible at all  
she was crying but it was all right  
she was full of Grace and her smile was  
oh, God  
she was lifting up the baby and holding him out to her  
the baby smiled and waved his hands and bare feet  
he was glad to see her  
 _her_

"Dana Kate?" An arm slipped around her shoulders, warming her, lifting her up.

"Mary?"

"Honey, come on, can you sit up?" her mother urged her, "I've got your things. Sister Mark told me everything. That Hallstead girl said she'd started it and apologized. You're all clear, for once. She's saying her Our Fathers in the classroom...There are better ways of making friends. Come on now, the others are waiting."

"Mom, I thought Mary..." she struggled, shivering, to her feet as Margaret Scully buttoned her navy school coat around her with efficient hands.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just a dream. It must have been."


End file.
